Chapter 18 #2
Mrs. Foster shook her head. “I teach them, and my husband, too. We’re hoping to build a school. There’s other families who could benefit, but . . .” She sighed. “Not sure how we’d convince a teacher to come out here, with the roads as they are.”
Charlotte nodded her understanding. Now that she was in the bush, she saw how the distance between farms and the rough roads combined to make a school nearly impossible.
“Yet you love it here.” Charlotte paused. She hadn’t meant to voice the thought aloud.
“I do. My husband settled here as a young man.” She bit her lip with a conscious glance at Charlotte.
“We met later on. It took some doing to convince me to move away from my family, but now I love the bush. It’s a place to make a fresh start.
Leave behind your mistakes. And there’s a satisfaction in building something from scratch. ”
Charlotte wondered what kind of mistakes the cheerful, kindly couple could have made, but good manners forbade the question. “Aren’t you lonely?” she asked instead.
Mrs. Foster’s smile turned wistful. “Sometimes I wish the children had schoolmates. Mostly, though, we’re happy as we are. As long as we’re together.”
Charlotte sat back. Happy as long as we’re together. She’d worked so hard to keep her family together. But it hadn’t felt happy. It had felt forced and tense. Edenbrook was twice the size of this cabin, yet its rooms had none of the welcome.
“Is it time for breakfast?” Sam said from the top step.
“Not yet.” Mrs. Foster sent Charlotte a rueful smile. “Your coming is the most excitement they’ve had in months. Simon must be happy to see you, too.”
Charlotte frowned, remembering Simon’s reluctant welcome the day before. “I’m not sure he is.”
“Being difficult, is he?” Mrs. Foster reached across the table and squeezed Charlotte’s hand.
“He’s worried for you, that’s all. Awful fond of you, he is, for all he wouldn’t write.
I told him more than once he ought to send you a line or two, set your mind at ease.
Stubborn boy. Said you’d follow him and he didn’t want you finding—” She broke off with a self-conscious look at Charlotte.
“Well, listen to me ramble on. Don’t often get the chance to talk to another woman. ”
Mrs. Foster turned the conversation to the latest news from the city and Charlotte gladly followed her lead into less personal topics.
She didn’t want to dwell on Simon and Papa and Edenbrook.
Not here, not now. Instead, she sank back in her chair, relishing the feeling of being warm and full, resting in the company of a host who seemed eager to learn all about her.
Despite the uncertainties surrounding Simon and the journey back to Toronto, contentment flowed through Charlotte. No wonder Simon loved it here. This cabin felt like . . . a home.
Joshua and Simon returned to the cabin, horses watered, to find Charlotte gone.
“Where is she?” Joshua asked.
Simon’s brows raised at the tension in Joshua’s voice. “She’s gone to the Fosters’. Didn’t you notice the footprints?” He shook his head. “I should’ve known Sam and Emmy would come. Pests.” Simon scoffed in annoyance. “Now you’ll have a late start.”
“Charlotte wouldn’t just wander off into the woods with children she didn’t know.”
Simon stilled in the act of gathering Charlotte’s things and quirked a brow. “Wouldn’t she?”
Joshua let out a breath, remembering the woman who’d let a couple of waifs talk her into trading away all his flour.
The woman who’d set off into an unknown forest with a pistol and come back with a turkey over her arm.
He’d never met a woman so prone to danger.
Then again, he hadn’t met that many women.
Three sets of footprints in the snow confirmed Simon’s suspicions and they set off down a narrow footpath.
“Did you cut this trail?” Joshua asked in an attempt to distract himself from worrying over Charlotte’s safety.
Simon nodded. “Foster and I spent the summer clearing land together, and it made sense to have a quick way back and forth.”
“You’re lucky to have neighbors so close.” A dour Scots couple lived a mile up the trail from Joshua, but the long stretch of bush between the two cabins deterred frequent visits.
“I am. Not often there’s two adjoining homesteads without clergy reserves between them.”
“Aye.” Joshua never could figure out what the church planned to do with all the land they held. They certainly hadn’t built any churches in these parts.
Simon looked over his shoulder with a grin. “There’s another reason I wanted this path, though. Mrs. Foster’s a fine cook. She takes pity on a poor bachelor and invites me for supper most days. I reckon I’ve been down this path a thousand times.”
The bond Simon had made with the Fosters in such a short season was remarkable. Joshua shrugged. Some men had the knack for making friends.
Around the next bend was a fine log home, the wood dark and weathered against the snow-covered trees.
An ache spread through Joshua’s chest at the sight.
It was the home he’d dreamed of, right down to the towering trees in the yard and the fine walnut door.
Would he ever have a home like this? Less likely now than ever, if he gave up on the five pounds from Deacon Cole.
Every spare cent would go to pay off Mrs. Cooper.
Sam Foster opened the door and sped across the yard to Simon.
“Can I take Tuck on a ride?” he said, his eyes on Simon’s fine gelding.
“Not today, pest,” Simon said with a fond cuff to the boy’s shoulder.
Simon headed inside, turning back after a moment when he realized Joshua hadn’t followed.
“I’ll take the horses to the barn and get them out of the wind,” Joshua said in response to his unspoken question. “I reckon you have a fair bit to discuss.” He looked to the cabin, picturing Charlotte, wishing he could spare her the pain of the scene to come yet knowing he was powerless to do so.
It was time she faced down whatever was between her brother and herself. It was time she settled her future, and it definitely didn’t involve him.